


I Kissed A Boy

by Cousin Shelley (CousinShelley)



Category: Blackpool | Viva Blackpool (TV)
Genre: Competitiveness, Denial, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Singing, Undercover as a Couple, Yuletide Treat, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28311528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinShelley/pseuds/Cousin%20Shelley
Summary: Peter and Ripley discover some things about each other while Peter helps him assess a threat to his business interests.
Relationships: Peter Carlisle/Ripley Holden
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	I Kissed A Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [illudio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/illudio/gifts).



“Why do you have to be here again?” Ripley stirred his drink then chewed the end of the straw, angrily eyeing the crowd on the dance floor. They sat at one of the small round tables between the dance floor and the bar. Instead of sitting across from each other, Peter sat fairly close to him so that when the man they were meeting sat down, they’d be on one side with him on the other. 

Ripley had scooted his chair away an inch at a time, but Peter kept scooting with him. 

“I’ve told you five times. Settles is dangerous, so I thought you could use actual backup.” Peter had repeated that so many times, and it was true, but he’d also been lured by the idea of watching Ripley Holden, tough guy business owner, all toxic masculinity and gold chains, react to seeing men dancing with each other and kissing in a gay club.

Settles was dangerous, sure, but in some ways this was like a gift, wrapped in shiny paper and placed on Peter’s doorstep. No way he’d miss tagging along. 

“I know you’ve told me five times, Carlisle, but I haven’t liked any of your answers.” He glared at Peter. 

“You ever heard the phrase ‘doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result is the definition of insanity’?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it, and I have my doubts about whether some old Chinese man actually said it.”

Peter chuckled. “I don’t think anybody has claimed Confucius said that one.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Well I—” Ripley’s sentence choked off when a man’s hand grabbed his shoulder. 

“Ripley. Peter.” Brant Settles stood behind them, between them, and clamped a hand on Peter’s shoulder, too. “I’m so glad you could come. I’m running a little late, unfortunately, might be another hour before I can really spare the time. Do you mind waiting?”

“No, of course not,” Ripley said. “Don’t mind at all.”

Peter amused himself how clearly he could see that lie. Ripley was _pissed_. “Fine with me. We’ll just sit here enjoying the atmosphere.”

“Good, good.” Settles let go of their shoulders and clapped them on the back. "An hour or less, promise, and then we’ll get down to business.” He turned to walk away, but stopped. “I have to admit I had no idea about you two.”

“What?” Ripley’s voice came out high-pitched. 

“How long have you been together?”

Peter couldn’t stop his wide smile. While Ripley stared at him like a deer in headlights, Peter grinned wickedly and said, “It’s all very new for us, isn’t it, muffin?”

Ripley chewed his gum aggressively. He might have stopped breathing. It was fucking _glorious._

“You look right together, you know? You should dance, enjoy yourselves. I’ll hurry.”

Peter laughed and licked his bottom lip. “You’re chewing that gum like it threatened your family and killed Santa Claus.”

Ripley frowned. “What do you mean saying that to him?”

“He’s gay, he owns a gay nightclub and now he thinks we’re gay. That can only help.”

“But we’re not”—he flipped his index finger back and forth between them so fast it was a fleshy blur—”together.”

“So pretend we are for one meeting.” It was Peter’s turn to frown. “You’ve got a gay son, you know, it’s not like there’s something wrong with it. What does it matter?”

“Doesn’t. Nothin’ wrong with it. I didn’t say that. Hell, I wouldn't mind if it were anyone but you.”

“Really. Now that's interesting. I’m not good enough for ya? Not handsome enough?” He put his face up close to Ripley’s and laughed when Ripley covered his face with his hand and gently pushed. But the look on his face had gone from that murderous glare he usually gave Peter to something uncomfortable and a little uncertain.

"Settles saw that. Is that anyway to treat your boo in front of him? You should probably kiss me to make sure he doesn’t think we’re having a spat.” Peter laughed and could barely believe how much fun he was having. 

“For god’s sake.” Ripley drained his glass. 

“Seriously, it’s nothing to get uptight about. Surely you and some of your macho friends helped each other out now and then.”

“We did not.” Ripley Holden actually looked offended. 

“Never a handjob in a locker room, or a quick blowjob between friends.”

His mouth dropped open so far his gum almost fell out. “And you’re telling me that you’ve done those things? You’ve given _a quick blowjob between friends_ ?”

Peter shrugged. “I have. And slow ones between more than friends.” He nudged Ripley with his elbow. “I’m pretty good at it if I do say so myself.”

Ripley looked scandalized. “I can tell you from being on the receiving end of them, it’s not exactly rocket science.”

“It’s an acquired skill.”

“It’s wet heat and friction, and anybody willing to put in a little effort—”

“How would you know if you’ve never done it?”

“Why are we having this conversation?”

“Pure fun,” Peter said. “Not only have I convinced Settles that you’re my boy toy, but I’ve got you wondering if you can suck dick better than me. I haven’t had this much fun in years.”

“I’ll bet I could.” 

“What, suck dick better than me?” Peter chewed his own straw, unable to stop smiling. 

“I can do most things better than you, so why not?” Ripley said, voice growing in volume. 

“While you’re imagining sucking dick, tell me, Ripley, would you be a top or a bottom in bed?”

“A what?”

Peter clasped his hands together. “Oh my god, this is fantastic. Basically, which one of us would be bending over?”

“Us?” he almost shouted. “Neither. I—”

“In our pretend relationship, I think I would be fucking you.” Peter took a drink. “Definitely.”

“Now wait a minute.” Ripley seemed close to standing. “It’s not that way at all. You’re _my_ bitch, not the other way around.”

“Tsk, tsk. Such sexist language, muffin. I—”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Sexist?”

“Muffin!

Settles appeared at Ripley’s elbow. “You even call each other pet names when you’re angry? That’s . . . sweet. Well, I’m done for the night. Is this a bad time?”

Peter knew he’d go to hell for it, but he made sad eyes at Settles. “Perfect timing. We just have to kiss and make up, and I’ll be able to get my head in the game again. Right. Muffin?”

Ripley’s mouth worked like he was chewing the world’s toughest steak, so Peter leaned over to give him a quick kiss. Instead of letting him, Ripley swallowed his gum, sank his fingers into Peter’s hair and pulled him into something nobody would have called a make-up kiss. 

It was an angry kiss. An _I’m the dominant one, I'll show you_ kiss. 

It was the most _let’s fuck right now_ kiss anyone had ever laid on Peter. 

“All better,” Peter said, embarrassed at how his voice cracked. 

The meeting went fine, and by the end both Ripley and Peter knew Settles was going to be as big a problem as they expected, crowding into Ripley’s business, probably selling illegal drugs off the back end. But it was hard to think about that as they walked down the street away from the club. 

Peter leaned close to Ripley and sang, “ _I kissed a boy and I liked it._ ”

“Stop it,” Ripley moaned. 

“ _The taste of his chapped lips_.”

Ripley rubbed his fingertips over his lips, glaring. "That's not the words."

Peter took Ripley’s arm and spun him. “ _I kissed a boy just to try it. I hope my—_ ”

Ripley grabbed his hair again, their faces an inch apart. “ _It felt so wrong. It felt so right_.” He kissed Peter as roughly as he had in the club. “ _Don’t mean I’m in love tonight._ ”

Peter took off at a jog down the street, Ripley singing the chorus, much more angrily than Peter had. 

“Want to test your blowjob theory?” Peter asked, interrupting him. “See if you can do it better than me?”

Ripley looked around, then pushed Peter forward toward his car. “Never let it be said Ripley Holden backs down from a challenge.”


End file.
